


if you find me (hide me)

by aishiteita



Series: UNDER THE VERY VERY BLUE MOON [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Blind Character, Choking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiteita/pseuds/aishiteita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Cursed with a love you can't express, and it's not for a fuck or a kiss.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you find me (hide me)

**Author's Note:**

> i love pain how are yall on this beautiful day  
> i swerved so hard from asphyxiation fetish pwp to my sad day playlist
> 
> eNJOY

"Would you do it again?"

The question catches Changkyun off-guard, and he chokes on smoke to Wonho's amusement. "Do what?"

Wonho laughs softly, reaching for the cigarette between Changkyun's lips, burned through to the paper of its filter. Changkyun feels the fingers pressed gently on his lips, parts them, lets Wonho put out the flame because that's how it works.

Lights out, bedroom ten steps south, kitchen twenty steps north, the scent of mint body wash on fresh skin about to get tainted by sticky, nicotine-laden fingertips. "Would you do another sculpture of me?"

"Are you still salty about me selling the first one?" Changkyun smirks, remembering how reluctant Wonho was about the whole deal, and how bad he felt for doubting the older when Wonho left to take care of the transaction. But it bought them the lease for their new apartment, with an extra room Changkyun can finally use as his studio.

"I'll forever hold it against you," replies Wonho haughtily, "so make another one and actually keep it."

Truth be told, Changkyun would love it if Wonho weren't so light on his feet; it's hard to make out the other's whereabouts, footsteps falling so softly around the room, echoing throughout the entire floor. But tonight, the city is quiet, the air stagnant between them. He can hear feet pitter-pattering on wooden floorboards as Wonho paces about the room. "C'mere," Changkyun says, gesturing to the sofa he's currently seated on.

Footsteps. _Pitter-patter_. Rustling, the sofa dipping, Wonho seated before him, breath warm against Changkyun's face. He lifts a hand, reaches out until he meets hard flesh under threadbare cotton. Changkyun creates like this; feeling, touching, knowing, then translating into piles and piles of wet clay. His finger trails across fine hairs, smoothing over skin that curves down—a shoulder.

"How do you want me?" Wonho asks.

"Quiet," Changkyun answers cheekily, tracing the hem of Wonho's shirt until he finds the familiar dip in the center of his chest. Wonho doesn't flinch, doesn't even raise a single hair as Changkyun ghosts his skin with the tip of his fingernail, pressing harder with every inch it comes across. There's a faint red line marring Wonho's chest all the way to his collarbone, still going up his neck until Changkyun's finger meets velvet.

He's never liked the texture of velvet.

"Why wear a choker when I'm trying to learn you?" he complains, miffed. Changkyun wobbles, balancing his forearms on Wonho's broad shoulders as he tries to unclasp the offending accessory. But Wonho beats him to it, the choker off his neck and now snugly fit around Changkyun's instead.

"It feels nice," Wonho mumbles, admiring Changkyun's lost look and obviously disturbed expression at having his neck feel so—restricted. "You can feel your own heartbeat so clearly. Calm down and try it for yourself."

So Changkyun does. He calms down, silences his brain, quietens his lungs to feel the steady thrumming of his heart against the choker. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

His hands, at ease on Wonho's shoulders just a second ago, find their way to the hem of Wonho's shirt, yanking it off the man. The air is still, every rustle a roar to Changkyun's ears as his warm hands meet cold skin. Wonho's always been on the colder side.

With every single heartbeat of his, he moves his hands by an inch; smoothing over, pressing in, raking across. He finds amusement in the divot of Wonho's collarbone, a spark of lust when he pinches the nape, getting a rare gasp out of the older.

Changkyun lets his hands fall, wrapping his arms loosely around Wonho's waist as he leans in close. "I love you," he says, muffled by the crook of Wonho's neck as he breathes in deep.

"You've never seen me," is Wonho's reply, nonchalant even as Changkyun presses kisses along his neck, up to his ear. This is Changkyun's fifth confession thus far; he's counting.

"I don't need to see you to know what you look like," Changkyun mutters, "you've seen my sculpture of you. You've seen how I see you."

"Yeah," Wonho sighs, finally buckling under the younger's touch. He lies flat on his back, pulling Changkyun on top of him until they're flushed against each other on the cramped sofa. "Yeah, I have."

"Wasn't it pretty?" Changkyun pries, "Beautiful, even?"

 _It's the most beautiful I've ever seen myself._ "It was okay. You got my face all wonky."

"Oh?" Changkyun raises a brow, hovering on top of Wonho with a coy smile on his face. "Is that so?"

"I'm afraid it is so," Wonho exclaims, chortling as he feels the first of many more touches on his face. A hand on his cheek, and lips pressed onto the other. Changkyun eventually hoists himself up to straddle Wonho, fingers diligently mapping out the other's face as he traces the hook of Wonho's nose, the outline of his temple to his cheekbone, all the way down to where it curves and meets the corners of his mouth, currently curled up just a tad bit. "Wake me up when you're done."

"I'm not gonna let you sleep," Changkyun scoffs, finally giving in as he swoops down to kiss Wonho on the lips; not his cheeks, not the corner of his mouth. His hands roam, sliding down Wonho's sides to rub against the sharp lines of his hipbone. Wonho moans into the kiss, and Changkyun hooks two fingers into the band of the older's sweatpants. "I really do love you, y'know."

"You don't even know my real name."

The air is still, the city asleep. Rustling as clothes meet the floor again. Changkyun lets himself drown in the sheer expanse of skin, Wonho completely bare before him and at his mercy.

It's funny, he thinks, how he's actually the one at the other's mercy, if there's any left for him anyway.

"And I don't know what you look like, and I don't know where you go during the day, I don't know where you come from, I don't know _anything_ ," Changkyun snaps, mouthing against a collarbone. "You won't let me know anything."

There's still a band of velvet around his neck, and Changkyun doesn't know what to feel about the quickened drumming of his heart, echoed back to where his pulse lies. Wonho's lips are pressed against his temple, arms around his torso; it doesn't get better, thudding louder, harder, faster.

"I'm sorry," is the weak reply he gets, murmured into his hair. "For what it's worth, I love you too."

"It doesn't work when you won't let me."

The air is dead, the city in a coma, mound of clay in his studio completely dried up. Changkyun sold his first ever humanoid piece for many reasons, including rent, including love, including said love being rejected a hundred times over even if only five of them were verbal.

"Just let me love you," he begs, like he always does, because there's nothing left for him to do, nothing that he can do in the first place.

The answer comes distant, like it always does, "...in time, Kyun."


End file.
